


3 times out of 3000

by catnip



Category: Zetsuen no Tempest | Blast of Tempest
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-21
Updated: 2013-10-21
Packaged: 2017-12-30 01:34:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1012448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catnip/pseuds/catnip
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Glances shared and glances unreturned. Only a few of many.</p>
            </blockquote>





	3 times out of 3000

**Author's Note:**

> Very loosely based on the following prompt: _Mamihlapinatapei - The look between two people in which each loves the other but is too afraid to make the first move._

The heat in the classroom seemed unbearable. When they had told their teacher so he simply smacked his wooden pointer upon one of the desks, and both sat silently and obediently. Until he was gone from the room, that is.

First came the bickering about who was at fault for another after school detention, then the shared misery over their fate, and finally it rounded out with dreams of what they would do when they were free again. From elementary now to middle school it followed the same pattern.

With a groan Mahiro flung himself against the back of his chair, hands coming to grip at the collar of his shirt. He made quick work of the buttons, cursing as he tugged the sweaty fabric from his skin. 

Yoshino looked over to his friend, watching, and for a moment Mahiro caught his eye. Cocked an eyebrow.

"What?"

"Nothing." Yoshino went back to looking elsewhere, a corner of his mouth bunching. "I just didn't know you were going to add nudist to your already long list of bad traits."

"What! Are you trying to insult me?!"

So the boys were back to the bickering stage.

xxxxx

"You're really starting to piss me off, you know that?"

Mahiro growled under his breath, a menacing finger pointed outward. At the other side of the table Yoshino looked at him over the rim of his glasses, arm still extended, paper in hand.

"Good. Now shut up and take this and do it, you lazy asshole."

With more force than needed, Mahiro grabbed the sheet, yanking it from Yoshino's hand. 

And so that hand immediately shot back, Yosino drawing it to his chest. "Shit," he muttered quietly, one hand coming to grab the other. With a squeeze he watched as blood welled up in a thin neat line across the pad of two fingers. "You idiot, what's your problem?"

Mahiro looked over at the scene with a furrowed brow, Yoshino frowning at him. They held the gaze of the other for a moment and Mahiro's lips parted, wanting a voice but not finding it.

A soft voice interrupted them, "Put his fingers in your mouth, saliva will help clot the blood.".

Both boys turned to the entryway of the room where Aika stood, hip cocked and resting against the frame. Though they each couldn't see it, she easily noticed the blush seep across both their faces.

"When did you grow up to be such a pervert? I remember when my sister was cute."

Aika smiled, unruffled. "It's only proper to help out since you caused the trouble."

"Whatever."

Mahiro turned his attention back to the paper, now having to press and smooth the wrinkles from it before he could work. Yoshino stood to go wash his cuts. And Aika shrugged before disappearing again, something that sounded like _hopeless_ on her lips.

xxxxx

As the minutes ticked by the room grew darker. Neither boy could find the will in him to get up and turn a light on, sun setting or not. The stretches of bright orange and yellow light that had painted the walls and ceilings were long gone and left them without distraction in the silence.

Yoshino shifted, regretting each movement as the sounds of clothes crumpling against sofa fabric rankled his already frayed nerves. He looked down at the floor where Mahiro sat and found only the back of his head for a view.

"I know your house has been....cleaned. But you can stay here with me, you know. If you want."

At first Mahiro said nothing, and Yoshino wasn't sure if he was even listening. If he should offer again. Then in a voice stretched thin and empty, "You don't have to offer. It's fine."

Though Mahiro hadn't moved an inch, looking at him from behind Yoshino could still picture his face near perfect. The expression he'd be wearing just then. "It's..." he searched for the words he wanted, "fine. Okay. I really don't mind though."

None of the words that came were right and his jaw tightened. Fine was such a stupid word. So in defeat the inside of his eyelids became his new view for the next stretch of minutes. But soon dreams took over.

Mahiro didn't stay much longer than that. For a time he found himself watching Yoshino, watching the small facial expressions he made as he slept and realizing he'd seen them all before over the years. Yoshino let out a sigh and Mahiro closed the front door behind him.

Yoshino didn't see him the next day, or night, or an endless string of nights after that. And it seemed to him that many times in those nights he found the right words would come. But now he was alone with no one to listen.


End file.
